A Multiple Perspective Hunger Games
by KatelenaThorn
Summary: This is a Hunger Games told through multiple perspectives. I do not own the Hunger Games trilogy. However, all the characters and the arena (a sort of junk yard) are original. I hope you like it! :)
1. Chapter 1 Blood Bath

**HARLAN: DISTRICT 10**

I stand on the plat form, solid under my feet. I breath deeply, trying to stop my heart from filling my ears. I know I'll never make it to the last 8. I will die here, and never know what it's like to have some one care about you. I am a dirty, useless pocket-picker with no one to love him. Anger and hopelessness battle inside of my body, threatening to burst from my insides and kill me where I stand.

I must focus. It takes my eyes awhile to adjust to the dim lighting. I can see the golden cornucopia, surrounding it is hard, dirty concrete. At the center of the golden horn shaped object there are weapons, shiny axes and cleavers. Bows and arrows encased in black leather, knives of all shapes and sizes, and silver instruments that I can't name.

The farther away the object is from the cornucopia, the less deadly it is. Spread on the ground near the giant metal horn are blunt objects that you can use to beat some one to death with. Farther out are bags of food, Sleeping bags, and duffle bags with who-knows-what in side of them.

I position myself to sprint. I know what I need. I need a weapon, because god knows I can't make one. I wish I had bothered to learn how to do that at training. My eyes search the ground frantecly, then I spot what will sewt my needs in the cornucopia. A long dark hachet. That is what I want.

I lock my eyes on the dangeras tool. I am not the fastest, but I can run. I've spent a lot of time running from peacekeapers after I've pick pocketed a store merchant, or stolen a juicey sausege from a meat shop. I hate the grey slop they fead us at the orphan house.

It surprises me that my breath is coming out in tiny puffs of fog. So much adrenaline is pumping through me that I didn't feel the cold air, or the light sprinkling of tiny rain drops bouncing off the sandy blonde curls of my hair. I scan the arena further. We are in what looks like a parking lot for now. I see things like empty storage compartments, and junk cars.

I lock my eyes on my hatchet as the count down starts. I bounce on the balls of my feet, suddenly aware that I am clutching my large wooden bead in my hand. It is painted dark blue, and is the first thing I ever stole. When I was little I found a rat, and I named him Len. One of the woman working at the orphan home found him, and drown him. I cried and ran outside and shut myself in a broom cupboard. That's where I found the bead.

I hold that bead now. I don't know why I took it with me into the arena. All it dose is remind me that the only living being that came close to loving me was a farm rat that was drowned two weeks after knowing me. I take deep breaths and prepare myself to sprint as the count down becomes closer and closer to 1.

_6... _I'm ready. _5... _I can do this. _4... _Wait for it. _3..._ Almost there. _2... _I swallow hard. _1_ I bolt forward.

I can hear my feet slap against the wet concrete. Just as I reach for the hatchet, A huge boy from 4 shoves me to the ground. I am vulnerable. I realize this to late.

The boy from 4 keeps running, but a cruel looking girl from 1 takes her chance to strike. It happens in half a second. I am on the ground tripping over myself, desperate to get on my feet when she dives on me. Her blonde hair falls around me, and she takes extreme pleasure in the look of fear that I know is clearly etched on my face. I know I can't win this fight, but it is better to die fighting than to die week.

I punch her as hard as I can in the jaw. Her head swings to the side, allowing her damp blonde locks to fly around her. She turns back to me and smiles, a look of crazed hunger in her cold, blue eyes, as blood trickles down her face. She grabs my throat and pushes me hard against the concrete. She begins to slam my head against the rough dark surface. I claw at any thing I can reach, and kick as hard as I can, rage begins to boil in my blood as I begin to loose my vision.

I am choking, I am gasping for breath, as the blood thirst girl strangles me. Red liquid splashes onto my face, leaking from the split lip I gave her. I hate her. I will not die this way. I am so angry.

I have been holding in all my anger for so long, it has been building and festering inside me for years. Anger at the world, and it's cruel tricks on me, angry at humanity for being so evil, creating such games, never loving me. This is the time to let it out.

I use all the strength I have, all the anger roaring inside me to let out a raw, howling scream, as I roll on to this girl from 1. I fling my body sideways and I am on top of her now. I kneel on her arms and she screams in surprise and sudan pain, as I shove my thumbs in to her eyes. She lets go of my throat and I let out shuddering coughs as I grab her hair and begin smashing her head against the pavement, as she had done to me.

Suddenly I feel 4 sharp pains stab into the side of my waist. I fall off of the girl as I clutch at the deep knife wounds a tall slender boy inflicted on me while my back was turned. I have been stupid, stupid to have not made it past the blood bath. I close my eyes. I don't want to look at this awful place as I leave this world. A huge warmness fills my weak, hopeless body.

I can hardly feel the pain. I can feel the cold rain on my face, and the pounding in my head, I can feel my breath escaping my mouth, only now realizing how valuable every exhale and inhale is. I search for a happy memory, a beautiful picture to have in my mind as I slowly start to drift away. My mind strains for a piece of something, anything, that could have been love.

Then I see her. A face that has been long lost in my subconscious. She is smiling, tears running down her face. She is plain, and looks sickly, but she is happy to see me. And I desperately hope that this woman is my mother. I also hope that who ever this woman is or was, is a real person, and not a picture my mind made up because of the lack of happy memories stored in my brain. But real, or not real, It's all I have. I smile as my mind's eye stares at this kind face.

Tears roll down my bloody freckled cheeks. I was loved at some point. And if I had to be on my death bed to find that out, maybe dying isn't so bad after all.

His body became limp and a dark blue bead rolled from his hand as the cannons began to blast. One for every fallen tribute. Signaling that the blood bath was over.

**I hope you enjoyed this first chapter. A girl from 3 is coming next! I greatly appreciate feed back! :)**


	2. Chapter 2 Tori

**TORI**:** DISTRICT 3**

I am running as fast as my legs can cary me, when the cannons start to go off. There is a burning stitch in my chest and my legs are on fire. _BOOM, 1._I don't thing I can run like this much longer if I want to keep breathing. _BOOM, 2._

My eyes search franticly for a remotely safe place for me to hide, and catch my breath. _BOOM 3._ I dive left into an empty, rusting storage container. _BOOM, 4. _We use ones similar to ship electronics out to the capital. _BOOM,_ _5_.

I huddle in a corner, hugging my knees to my chest and trying to catch my breath. I stay still and listen to the cannons. _BOOM, BOOM, BOOM. _I count 9. That's not to many.

My dark brown hair looks black when it's damp. It hangs in stringy bits that are falling out of my sloppy bun, and clings to my cheeks. I stretch out my legs in front of me and only now realizing how wet, cold and scared I am. But I can't stay here long, I have to always be moving, if I stay in one place for to long I am sure to be killed before I make it to the last 8.

I can't have that. I have to get home, I'm not ready to die. I suddenly have a new courage, a bravery that bubbles up inside me. I can't be afraid. There is no time for fear.

I take a deep breath, and swing the duffle bag I took from the cornucopia over my shoulder. I unzip it and begin to examen it's contents, every object I pull from the bag is a valuable tool, a small window to survival. A flash light, an empty jug for water, a bag of dried fruit, an extra jacket, a pair of wool socks, and most valuable, a black lighter.

I smile. what do you need to survive? Food, water, and warmth. I have all 3. I have a lighter, some socks and an extra jacket for warmth. I have some fruit, and a jug that I can fill with rain. All I have to do now is make a weapon, and find more food. Sounds easy, but I know it won't be.

I get on my feet, I can't stay here forever. The first thing I decide to find is a weapon. I think it's a smart choice, since every one here wants to kill me. I think maybe I should try to find an ally some how, but it's most likely to late for that. I've never been to good at making friends any way.

At home I have only one close friend, Lila. I picture her as I trot quietly around rusted chunks of mettle, and duck behind a junk car when I see a frightened 12 year old boy fidget by, about 30 feet away from me. She has blonde shoulder length hair, pail skin, watery blue eyes, and big teeth. she isn't much to look at, but I love her.

It sounds self absorbed, but I can't help but notice that Lila has always felt ugly, or less-than standing next to me. She has never been one to hold a grudge, or become jealous, but I can tell she looks up to me, longs to be more like me. I can't exactly deny that I'm prettier than her. With long, dark, wavey hair and hazel eyes.

She might never know that I have always been a little jealous of her. She may not be vary pretty, but she is so natural with people. Always knows just what to say, how to make some one feel better, or tell some one they are wrong without making them mad. I'm always so awkward, never knowing how to respond to the simplest of things.

I look at my feet. I'm standing in a puddle that has little drops of oil swirling in tiny rainbows that dance around the toes of my boots. I should be afraid, I should be alert, I should be on my guard, but I am numb. What is wrong with me? Some one can jump on me right now and I'll be unarmed and I will die.

_I will die. S_uddenly the realization hits me. It should have hit me days, weeks ago. Why has it taken me so long? I don't know how this undeniable fact has not grabbed me sooner, but when it dose, it drags me down.

Inside, I go to a dark and forbidden place that my mind would previously not allow me travel. It hits me so horribly hard, it strangles me so painfully tight, that I don't notes myself sliding slowly to my knees. Hot, sticky tears run down my face. I hate crying.

_No! _I tell myself. _There will be time to cry, but not now. What's wrong with you? _I don't know. Why can't I move? _Move! _

I get to my feet, wipe off my tears and brush off my knees. _I am looking for a weapon. I have to find a weapon. _I scan the junk yard, looking for something heavy, but not to heave. Something big, but not to big to carry on my person. I set my eyes on the perfect thing. It's a rusty metal pipe, the end has been cut off, leaving the tip jagged and dangerous. I pick it up. It stretches from my wrist to my shoulder.

Happy with my find, I begin walking again. I don't really know what direction to go in, but I know I have to keep moving. I look up. The rain has stopped, but it's still cloudy. I can't really tell what time it is, but I'm guessing it's still afternoon. It's cold out. I look at my red, numb hands.

Suddenly, I stiffen. I heard something. Shoes dragging on wet concrete. I look around me, where can I hide? I see half of a car not to far away from me and jump in as swiftly, and quietly as I can.

My heart pounds in my ears. I clutch my rusty pole to my chest, trying to steady my heart beat, scared that who ever is walking by will here it. I want to melt into the torn, milky leather of the sower smelling car seats.

They come into my line of vision. There are three of them. Two boys and a girl. All with more muscle than I have ever seen on anyone in my district. The girl has a round face, with perfect lips, blue eyes and mousy brown hair that hangs around her head in strait chin-length locks. She would be pretty if she didn't have a permanent smirk branded on her face.

The two boys look so extraordinarily alike that I wonder if they are twins. But I know that's impossible. I guess all carriers look the same to me; big and ugly. I suddenly want them to see me. These are the only kids in this arena that I wouldn't mind killing off. They want to be here, want to kill other innocent kids. But then I remember that these people are stronger, older, more skilled, and bering real weapons, and that I am holding a pipe, and am only 15. I wouldn't stand a chance.

The girl looks in my direction, with blue, piercing eyes. My heart skips a beat. But she whips her head back around and strikes up a conversation with one of the ugly guys. They laugh for a while and leave.

They disgust me. I think they have passed without seeing me, so I climb out of my hiding place. I was wrong. They did see me. They were just waiting for an exiting chase.


End file.
